The Viridian Wand Chronicles

*~EPILOGUE~* 

 

(Six Months Later) 

 

Harry watched as Mica played with her new pack of Exploding Snap, an early Christmas present from Fred and George. One of her cards blew up suddenly, and she gave a small smile. Other children would have giggled, or shouted with glee, but from Mica the slightest smile was a sign of absolute mirth. He had yet to hear her laugh. 

 

The fire in the fireplace behind Mica was roaring; a good thing, since it was a very chilly winter night. His wife snuggled a bit closer to him. 

 

"Do you think it'll be good for Mica?" Ginny asked. "Having a cousin, that is?" 

 

"I suppose," he replied thoughtfully. "Having a cousin can be rather nice at times. Of course, Dudley...he was a bit of a rotter." 

 

"Harry!" she objected. "Don't be comparing your own child to Dudley Dursley! Do you want our baby to be a beastly prig?" 

 

"Not really, now that you mention it. Though from what I can see now, the baby's going to look like a beach ball." 

 

"That's not nice!" Ginny protested, but she was smiling. "Just wait 'til you are five months pregnant, in the middle of the freezing winter, forced to wear mounds of clothing so heavy you can hardly move, and your feet are swollen and you can't even think about shoes without them hurting!" 

 

They promptly dissolved into gales of laughter. Mica laughed too, at first hesitantly, then a bit louder. 

 

It was, as Harry later thought, one of the few times he had ever been truly happy. 

* * * * *

Mica lay in her bed, snuggled under two quilts courtesy of Grandma Weasley. She clutched a doll her Grandma Granger had given her. It had once been her mother's. 

 

She could hardly believe she was there. This was as close to paradise as she would ever get, with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, who, in addition to loving her to death, had known her parents. Her father, her mother. 

 

In the picture on her dresser table, they gleefully waved at her, her mother with her bushy, thick brown hair and warm brown eyes, her father with a mop of bright red hair and her own pale blue eyes. It was their wedding day, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny waving behind them, best man and maid of honour that they were. All four were clustered in front of a chapel she had once seen when she was living in London. 

 

London, she thought, was not a fond memory. She had lived there for a year and a half, after Lowell had left the Goyles', sharing a flat with some young wizards who dabbled in the Dark Arts. Time there had not been very pleasant, compared to her residence with the Goyles for three years. 

 

Mica shuddered, thinking of London. If they knew the truth about her, would they still love her? 

 

 

THE END

 

 

...or is it?